A Face Like Father's
by Shadow of Midnight
Summary: Kankuro thinks about being like his father. No pairings. One-shot. Drabble.


**. Don't ask why, I felt like writing an angsty Kankuro monologue. I've written about my two favorite Sand Siblings and I thought it was only fair to write about Kankuro. What do you think of that? Oh yeah, and I DO NOT OWN! **

In his rare moments of lucidity, when Shukaku rests, Gaara is grateful to be a red-head. Grateful that his hair, different as it is, like the color of blood, is the way it is. Temari is likewise grateful to be blonde. She enjoys being unique and recognizable. But Kankuro merely wonders if fate decreed that he had to be the only sibling with his father's hair and face.

He reasons with himself about it. Temari is a girl, of course she should look like Mother, it would be odd for her to look otherwise. And it would be mere cruel irony for Gaara to resemble their father. Gaara, the hated outcast of the family, of the village, of the world, for him to look like the Kazekage would be a daily taunt, both to the village and to Gaara, reminding his of his outcast state. Gaara is nothing like any of their family in hair color, nor in height, since they are all tall people and he is short but slender, unlike himself and their father.

No, Kankuro knows that it would be injustice to his siblings if they were to share a face with Father. But he wonders, why him? Why could be not have resembled some distant cousin or uncle rather than their father?

Temari is a famed kuniochi, the Wind Mistress, renowned through out the Sand Village for her unique mastery of the winds. She created her own reputation from sweat and hard work. Her blond head is unique among the typically darker hair of the desert dwellers. No, Temari is different from him.

And Gaara is known too, in his way. A shadowy figure of the darkness, always solitary, on the perpetual razor edge of madness. Gaara fights in a way that is his own, though no one knows where he ends and Shukaku begins. Gaara, with hair like newly spilled blood, standing at the end of a dark alleyway with green eyes glinting of death. No, Gaara and Temari share eyes, that and a slender physique unusual to the desert people who are rough as the world they live in. But Kankuro's eyes are dark, not the pale green his siblings have.

Dark eyes, far less delicate then the others. His hair, too, is dark and although messy, the only thing he shares with both his brother and sister, it is the hair of his father. Kankuro hates his father, hates that he is "The Kazekage's Son".

Gaara at least can create his own reputation. That is false, as Kankuro knows well. He knows that his brother has a reputation more ironclad than his own. But still, Gaara is not bound by duty to anyone. Again, Kankuro knows he is lying to himself.

Gaara, once, would have done anything to be duty-bound to someone or something. And Temari, who trains out in the Dunes, practicing until she is pouring sweat but still cannot sleep and so stays up, watching the stars and the shadow of Gaara on the roof alone. Some nights Kankuro stays up with her. But it is her time, the night when the wind blows and the stars shine. Her time, and Gaara's. For Gaara is a creature of the night too.

Kankuro is like his father in that he does not like the night. Once more, he is like that man, that man who took his mother away more than the infant Gaara did. Kankuro knows that he is the weakest link in the chain. He has no special gift save puppetry and what is that but a used trick? He cannot kill like Gaara can, has no gift for strategy like Temari.

What is he but a puppet, more so than Karauso, of his father, passing on his face to posterity as if to remind the world. Of what, he wonders, what does his father wish to pass on? And why through him? Temari is more of a ninja, Kankuro, for all his bluster, does not like death. Gaara is more of the warrior, doomed to a lonely life of fighting all the way through.

Why not them? And the answer comes. For that reason exactly. Temari and Gaara will never have families of their own, never pass on their faces. Their green eyes will die with them. Who would get near the monster? Much less love. What man would Temari let control her? They are fighters. Not parents. Never with that potential. And the Kazekage sees this. He knows that Kankuro is the only one. The one with a shot at love and at marriage.

Kankuro writes the last line on the page and stares at it. He knows that this rambling, third-person monologue is his heart. Poured out onto the page. And he tucks the paper into a small compartment in his dresser and leaves the room.

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